Young Blood
by IngirdMayEdwards
Summary: Violet Connors is only thirteen, but she's already straining to tread through the struggles of life. After her father's death and an unfortunate misunderstanding, that left her all alone over summer holidays, she faces a new school year, teeming with new obstacles for her to face. Warning: There is (and/or will be) graphic language and content in this story.
1. One: A Funeral, Feelings, and Fred

Chapter One: A Funeral, Feelings, and Fred

"We're gathered here today to honour the memory and life of Alfie Connors. There is no one who would dispute the compassion he had for others nor the fine job he did, raising not one, but two daughters. He was a loving husband and a swell neighbor. Alfie was always there if you needed a hand, whether it was fixing a broken fence or just opening a jar or marmalade…"

The pastor droned on his hastily put together speech. In truth, Alfie Connors was an ornery old man, who barely had any friends left, besides his wife, because of his stark nature. Things were always right or wrong to Alfie, never in between.

His second daughter, Violette Connors, sat in the front pew with her mother trying hard to cry. She pinched her thigh repeatedly willing her eyes to swell, but none came. Violette felt odd. She didn't cry very often, her father actually scolded her for it. Crying was for the weak, but she always thought it just made him uncomfortable, so he would rather she didn't.

Her mother, Agatha, was sobbing uncontrollably next to her. Violette thought it may be from all the years she held back her tears. She loved her father, she really did, but he wasn't in the least bit compassionate. He wasn't one to hold your hand or comfort you when your cat died – "It is what it is" or "That's life" had been a few of his choice sayings. And the moment, two days ago, that Violette had seen his lifeless body and his sky blue eyes staring into nothing – she hadn't felt anything. It had been two days of her drifting through life, patting her mother's back, nodding politely at the consoling words of others, and trying to cry, but not feeling a thing.

She turned her head slightly to glance back at the Weasley's. They were all there, except for Bill, who was working in Egypt. Violette lived just outside the little town of Ottery St. Catchpole and if you walked about half a mile south of her house, you would stumble upon The Burrow. She had wandered over there when she was just seven years old, after years of hearing constant screams and laughs for just over the hill and toward the woods. Violette was met by Fred and George, who were gathering an army of gnomes to put in their older brother, Percy's, room. They asked if she wanted to help and were friends ever since.

It wasn't a normal thing. Violette had felt things all the time. She kept a diary in which she wrote down all these feelings – every laugh Fred and George caused, every flutter of the heart she felt when their older brother, Charlie, smiled at her, every annoyance her elderly, stick-in-the-mud parents caused her. But for the past two days, she felt absolutely nothing and it terrified her.

Today, the Weasley boys were dressed in shabby Muggle suits that Violette had help Mrs. Weasley pick out at the secondhand store in town, while Mrs. Wealsey and Ginny were wearing well-worn dresses. This was the first time they had ever attended the church. Mr. Weasley was trying to look solemn, but kept getting excited by all the Muggle happenings surrounding him. Fred gave her a small, sad flicker of a smile and George gave a small wave. She smiled and waved back, before turning around.

The pastor had stopped speaking and a bunch of middle aged men had gathered around her father's casket. The group consisted of her father's war friend's sons. They picked the casket up and marched out the door of the church, while everyone watched.

Her mother was still weeping next to her, not moving an inch. The melodramatic antics of her mother never ceased to amaze Violette. Agatha had been nearly as dry-eyed as Violette for the past two days, until they entered the church. Agatha Connors fed off the attention from others, so Violette could understand the pain she was going through – her husband wouldn't be around to give her an endless amount of attention any longer and that would be quite difficult for her, but it was still quite the show.

Her mother turned toward her and threw her short, sharp arms around Violette, sagging into her and crying. Violette, who had been several inches taller than both her parents for quite some time, tried to get her mother to stand on her own, so that they could join the rest of the crowd outside. Once Agatha noticed that people weren't particularly observing her anymore, she walked out of the church sniveling with Violette trailing behind.

Violette had been what her parents called 'their miracle child', or on rare occasion 'their second chance child'. She had never met her sister, and the only bit of information she had about her was that she had fallen into the wrong crowd and disappeared a little after Violette's birth. Both her parents were in their fifties by the time Violette had arrived, however.

She walked down the church steps and followed the small group of people to the cemetery, where he father's casket was lowered into a hole in the ground. Most everyone had tears rolling down their cheeks, Violette pinched herself again. Nothing. She watched her mother dap at her taupe colored eyes.

People began to notice. Violette saw a few of her mother's friends that were clucking over Agatha moments ago, pointing at her and whispering from the other side of the hole. She became a little paranoid, shifting her gaze toward other people in the crowd, all of whom seemed to be staring at her disapprovingly. If there was one thing that Violette could not handle was disapproval. She was the 'miracle child', she was the 'second chance child', there wasn't room for disapproval, her parents had no one left. Her _mother_ had no one left.

The word _shock_ seemed to be floating around, she watched as people nodded in agreement at the word. That must be it, Violette's in shock, not a secret sociopath, who seems to be totally unaffected by the death of her father – she's in _shock_. And then, someone throws dirt on the casket and the whispers turn to real conversation.

"Hey."

Charlie Weasley came up and stood next to her without her noticing. He had his hands shoved into the pockets of her tattered trousers and was smiling weakly at her.

Violette felt her mouth break open into a smile – not one of those meek, simpering smiles everyone uses at funerals, but a toothy, bright smile. Her eyes began to dart again, the people around her looked at her with confused expressions and her smile faltered. She didn't know what she was supposed to be doing, there was nothing telling her what to feel, so her body just seemed to go into autopilot polite mode.

"Hey, don't worry about them," Charlie said seriously, pulling her into a hug. He wrapped an arm around her thin body and used the other to softly stroke her long, black hair. She looked out at the crowd from his embrace, looking like a scared child. Even as a baby, Violette had been long and thin; she didn't go through the phase of being a chubby baby, she was always considered sickly looking with her almost translucent skin and her too large, perturbing hazel eyes. Her parents treated her thusly most of her life, making her hobbies reading and piano lessons, and only letting her go play with the Weasley twins for an hour each afternoon, until she went off to Hogwarts.

Violette stared at her father's forever bed of dirt, before pressing her face into Charlie's chest and not feeling a thing.

He was such a big person, Charlie. Her father was quite the opposite – thin, wiry, and short, but Charlie was broad. His arms were bigger than her thighs and even though he wasn't the tallest Weasley, he was still quite above the average man when it came to height.

She was waiting for the butterflies to release or to feel at home, as people say, when they are in the arms of the love of their life. But still, Violette felt nothing.

Charlie pulled away and bent down so that his bright blue eyes were level to her own.

"How you feel right now, don't let them judge that," he said. Charlie had always seemed thoughtful and wise to Violette, but that could've been his age deceiving her as she tended to falsely associate age with wisdom. "Don't let those old bags bother you, they just like to talk. Sometimes, you know, when something terrible happens we just don't know what to do. And that doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with you, just that you're processing, alright?"

She nodded.

"Good," he said, running his hand down her hair once more, looking concerned. "You're strong, you know, don't let anyone tell you differently. I've know you for, what is it, six years now? And you keep up with those hellions no problem, you'll get through this, Vie."

He paused, looking back at his family. Fred was staring at them with a strange expression on his face.

"I'm going to miss you, you know? Come see me before I leave, alright?" Charlie said, standing up straight. He was going off to Romania to study dragons in the next few days.

She nodded again.

He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

Violette watched him walk back toward his family.

She felt nothing, how is it that she felt nothing?

She saw the twins struggling to come over to her, but their mum had them by the arms and was whispering something to them with an annoyed look.

"Ready to head home, love?" came the croaky, yet watery voice of her mother.

She nodded.

* * *

Violette had been lying on her bed in the same spot for a little over four hours. She was staring at the ceiling, kicking her legs, and listening as her mother's sobs slowly stopped and were replaced by her record breaking snores that her father used to complain sorely about.

She pinched her thigh as hard as she could. So hard she drew blood, but no tears.

What was _wrong _with her?

There was a noise at her window and she looked up in time to see Fred slip through and land on the floor quietly and steadily. He was still wearing his suit without the jacket, however, and his hair had been rather neat that morning, but was now thoroughly tousled.

"Alright, Vie?" he said softly, sagging down onto the bed next to her.

The twins had always entered Violette's room through her window due to the fact that her father thought it was highly disrespectful to have boys in a young girl's room. Even if said boys were said girls only friends. Fred and George were the only people Violette ever broke rules for, which meant she broke quite a bit of rules.

"Where's George?" she asked, expecting her voice to sound strange, seeing as she hadn't said anything in hours, but it sounded normal.

"Well, mum wouldn't let us see you. She said you needed to spend time with your mum. She's been acting real strange, so we thought it was best to have a cover. George is at home, pretending to be both of us," Fred shrugged.

Violette looked over at Fred. She had always been envious of him and his family. The large and fullness of it all. They all said they considered her a sister, but it wasn't the same as actually being one in her opinion. She had a very lonely childhood until she met the twins and she continued to feel that way whenever she was without one of them.

He looked back at her, his dark chocolate colored eyes weren't dancing like normal. She tried to count his freckles, like she often did when she was bored, but couldn't focus.

They looked at each other for quite some time, until Violette felt herself reach up and cup his face. She rubbed her slender thumb against his cheekbone. Fred was staring at her apprehensively, but he didn't lean away as she brought her face up to his and kissed him. He didn't kiss her back right away, Violette had pushed him back, so that he was lying down and she was straddling him. She held his wrists in his in her small fists and kissed him harder, before feeling a hesitant response. Letting go of his wrists she moved her hands up to his face and slowly slid her tongue along his bottom lip until he opened his mouth. Their tongue tangled awkwardly at first, but caught a rhythm as his shaking hands felt her bare legs. Neither of them had ever snogged anyone before.

But she _felt_ something. Violette could feel the warmth in the pit of her stomach that began stretching the more confident Fred grew. His broad hands had found their way up to her face as she clumsily undid the buttons to his shirt and felt the softness of his lean, smooth chest. Violette ran her fingers along his ribs and then up toward his broadening shoulders. He sat up a bit and she yanked his shirt off completely.

She heard him kick his shoes off and she pushed up off his chest so that he was lying back down and she was sitting on top of him. His eyebrows were knit together in a combination of worry and curiosity. Violette picked up the end of her dress and pulled it up and over the top her head. Fred swallowed hard, but didn't look anywhere except her eyes.

Violette leaned back down and kissed him again, taking his hands and placing them on her nearly nonexistent chest that was covered by a barely needed lacy bra.

Fred sat up suddenly, taking her with him, and then twisted around, so that she was sitting alone on the bed and he was stood shirtless in front of her pacing.

"No," he said, running his fingers through his hair. "No, no, no."

"What? What is it?" she asked, feeling the blood creep up into her face. Violette has always felt self-conscious about the flatness of her chest, but she had once heard Lyra Black say that boys didn't care about breast size if it were their first time. She wondered if it wasn't Fred's first time. If it wasn't he hadn't said anything to her about it.

"We can't do this, we can't," he said with conviction, as though he were trying to convince himself.

"Is it… me?" she asked quietly, feeling the blood rush to her face entirely.

"What?" Fred asked.

He stopped pacing and blinked at her as though he had forgotten she was there entirely.

"Oh, Merlin, Vie, no," he said softly, bending down and handing his shirt, which had fallen off the bed, to her. "It's just that… sex, it won't make you feel better. It'll just make you feel worse. Bloody Hell, I'm sorry, Vie. I'm so sorry."

"Could you possibly know that?" she asked, slipping on his shirt and wrapping it around herself. "I heard Charlie and Bill talking, they said it was _mind blowing_ and that's what I need. I need to _feel_ something."

Fred stared at her, his mouth open slightly. He looked hurt and Violette wanted to slap him. _She_ wanted to feel hurt. _She _wanted to cry. All she felt now was embarrassed that she might have picked the wrong boy to try to sleep with. She brought her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. Fred sat down beside her.

"You don't need sex to feel something," he murmured.

She snapped her head toward him.

"I haven't felt anything in days, Fred. I didn't even cry when my father died. But just a moment ago, I felt right for the first time in _days_. I felt _good_."

"Bloody Hell, Violette, having sex with me, with anyone isn't going make this go away. All you're doing is trying to push it away. You say you haven't felt anything, but that's because you're swallowing your emotions without taking the time to feel them. You're suppressing them, because who wants to feel pain? But you've got to. Or else it'll only hurt more."

His hand was on her back and she felt them all bubbling up at the back of her throat. She looked up at Fred terrified, because it _hurt._ Everything _hurt_. He father was snoring and she let him sleep, only to find out that he had had a heart attack and his snores were actually him trying to breath. And it fucking hurt. Her mother told her that he was brain dead. And it fucking hurt. They pulled the tubes. And it fucking hurt. Her fingernails hurt. Her hair hurt. Everything hurt.

She leaned into Fred. Her face was wet and she felt it, she was finally crying.

"I thought I wanted to feel it, but I don't," she whispered.

"You're father died, Violette. It _hurts_. I know it hurts. But it wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault. And the longer you blame yourself and the longer you put it off feeling it the more it'll hurt."

He wrapped his arms around her and fell back so that they were laying down, her face on his chest.

"But it hurts so badly," she sobbed, her hair getting caught up in her tears and snot, but she didn't care. She clung to Fred tighter.

"I know," he said.

* * *

She awoke to someone knocking frantically on her window.

Fred was waving his arms wildly, his eyes were wide and his expression stricken from outside the window. A pale, freckled arm was draped around her waist and a soft rhythmic breathing was hitting the side of her face, which meant Fred was actually asleep next to her and George was at the window.

Violette blinked and rubbed at her eyes. She could hear the roar of voices coming from somewhere in her house, which meant her parents were awake and if they found her practically naked in bed with Fred, who was half way naked, she'd doubt if she'd ever be able to see him outside of school again. She began looking around for some sort of clothing, when the house actually began to move. A thunderous noise began marching toward her door with the voices getting louder and then the door burst wide open.

Fred sat up, her mum screamed, and Mrs. Weasley was so red, Violette thought if her head didn't explode, she'd most certainly pass out.

No one said anything for a moment as her mother's scream lingered in the air, before her mum rolled up the newspaper in her hand, scurried toward the bed, and began mercilessly beating Fred with it, while shrieking, "GET OUT!"

"Mrs. Connors, honestly, it's not what you think-" Fred started to said, scrambling to get away from her, but he ran straight into his mother, who grabbed him forcibly by the ear.

Violette stared in silent horror at Fred's wincing face, it looked as though she might pull his whole ear off.

"I'm sure you'll understand, Agatha, that Violette won't be welcome at our home for quite some time and will not be seeing my boys at all for the remainder of the summer holidays," Mrs. Weasley said in an oddly calm voice that did not reflect the venomous look on her face.

"I'm sure you'll understand, Molly, that neither of those boys are allowed to step foot on my property ever again!" her mum screamed, beating Fred's head with the newspaper again.

"Merlin's beard, Mum! Stop that!" Violette said, standing up to try to remove her mother. Both of the older women stared at her lack of clothing in what seemed to be more horror. She had forgotten that she was under a blanket.

"Where did you get those foul underthings!" her mum shrieked, but Violette ignored her.

"All this, it's my fault, Fred didn't do anything," she said, wrapping Fred's shirt around her.

"Violette, love, don't be ridiculous," her mum snapped. "Young men have been shoving those things up unsuspecting women since the beginning of time."

"Excuse me," Mrs. Weasley said, turning her gaze back toward Violette's mother. "But I highly doubt that this was at all Fred's idea."

"Oh, yes, because your two devil children, couldn't _ever_ be responsible for anything. Violette has had more scratches and scrapes coming back from your house than I can count! Sometimes she even smells like _smoke_!"

_"Devil_ children!" Mrs. Weasley bellowed, letting go of Fred and puffing up like a bullfrog. Fred fell back into her closet and sat down. "I'll have you know, that _your_ daughter brazenly flirts with my boys! And it was all good and fine until _now_ we come to find out she's also been _seducing_ them!"

"_Seducing them_!" her mother yelped. "Your son came over on the eve of the burial of my husband and took advantage of my distraught daughter!"

"Oh, yes, she looked very _distraught_ yesterday, while shamelessly flirting with my other son!" Mrs. Weasley snapped, looking briefly as though she were ashamed of what she said.

"Your imprudent and vastly older son _kissed_ my daughter! They're _all_ scoundrels! The lot of them!" her mum screamed, her voice growing hoarse. She was shaking so much that Violette thought she might collapse on the spot. Mrs. Weasley no longer looked abash.

"If I may," Fred said loudly from where he sat and both mother's turn angrily toward him. "I did feel thoroughly seduced, but in a _good_ way, you know?"

Agatha Connors let out a banshee like scream and began trying to beat Fred once again, but Mrs. Weasley blocked her.

"If you hit my son again, I will tie those bony, little arms of yours into a knot so tight, you'll never get it loose," Mrs. Weasley hissed, before yanking Fred up by his ear. "And you very well won't ever have to worry about seeing my boys again, will you? Fred, let's go."

Violette watched as Fred was dragged out of the room, casting a wincing look back at her. The second the front door slammed closed her mother turned on her, glowering.

"Do not even think about leaving this room," she hissed, slamming the door closed. Violette could hear Mrs. Weasley hollering at Fred all the way back to The Burrow.

She sat down on her bed. Everything hurt again.


	2. Two: A Kiss, King's Cross, and Knickers

**Chapter Two: A Kiss, King's Cross, and Knickers**

True to their words, her mother and Mrs. Weasley made sure that Violette had no contact with not only the twins, but the rest of the Weasley family as well throughout the entire summer. She tried to explain once, but it only fell on deaf ears.

"Mum," she had murmured, coming into the sitting room where her mother spent most of her days watching her programs. Agatha shushed her, leaning forward to find out who was cheating on who, but before it was revealed it went to commercial.

"What?" her mother snapped, twisting her head toward Violette from where she sat in her chair.

"We didn't… I mean, Fred and I-"

"I don't want to hear it, Violette, you soiled the day of your father's death with a grievous sin and I don't want to hear anything about it," she said, her voice sounding a little sickened as she turned back toward the television. "If your father were here…"

Her mother's voice caught, but she took a deep breath.

"If your father were here, he would've flung that boy into the lake to drown and locked you up, until you learned your lesson. I can only hope that God will forgive your spoiled soul, sweetheart," she turned back toward Violette, her face softening a bit, "you're just so young."

"But we didn't-"

Her mother's face twisted again as she raised her voice over Violette's.

"As for that boy, he can go rot in Hell for all I care. Seduced in a _good_ way, well, I never… I've always said that that woman needed to take control of her children, haven't I? Always running around, filthy and loud. It's a wonder why your father and I even let you over there in the first place. I wish your father were here to strangle that boy…"

Violette felt a little flutter of anger in her belly. Her mother had always been like this, and her father was much of the same. Always judging other's based on first impressions and quick assumptions. But it bothered Violette even more now that her father was gone, because she was the only one for her mother to bounce these criticisms off of. And she was expected to wholeheartedly again with every single one of them, even though she rarely did.

"Isn't murder a sin, too? Aren't we supposed to _love _thy neighbor?" Violette asked vehemently, but her mother was already focused back on her program and seemed not to hear her as she waved her hand in Violette's direction, motioning for her to be quiet.

It turned out that the couple on the program were both cheating on each other.

One of the only upsides to her desolate summer was the fact that she did get to say her goodbyes to Charlie.

He had wandered over a week after the funeral, she had seen him coming from the lawn chair in which she sat reading a book, his bright hair shining almost blinding in the sun. As he came closer, she pressed her finger to her lips and darted her eyes toward the open sitting room window. Her mother had demanded she left it open, in case this sort of incident happened. Agatha Connors snored louder than anyone Violette knew, but she was also a curiously light sleeper.

"My dad's at work and my mum had to go run some errands," he explained softly as she walked over to the fence where he stood. "So, I thought I'd come see you while I had the chance without having to get into a row with Mum. I would've brought Fred and George, but Percy has been told to keep a very close eye on them. They've tried to sneak out multiple times, just so you know, but either he or mum catches them. She's actually taken to sleeping on the couch."

Charlie bowed his head and dug his toe in the sand. Violette said nothing, but looked out toward the hill that he came from. She had tried to sneak out once; the look of disappointment on her mother's face when she had caught her almost killed her, so she hadn't tried again.

"Violette," he said, looking up and leaning against the fence so that his arms rested on it and their eyes were level. He wore an irked expression. "Bloody Hell… I honestly don't know the full story, only what mum was yelling when she dragged Fred into the house and later when she was talking to dad, but what the fuck were you two thinking? I mean, you're only thirteen years old and you're having _sex_? Are you kidding me? He won't say a word about it. Shuts his gob anytime someone brings up the subject, I mean, I've tried, but I can't believe that you two…"

He trailed off, looking away from her, his ears turning a slight red.

"We didn't," she whispered, folding the corner page of her book and letting it drop to the ground.

"What?" he said, his head snapping back toward her.

"Have sex, that is, we didn't do it," she said, picking the white paint on the fence next to his arm. She her finger brushed his skin, her stomach summersaulted, and he didn't move.

"Thank Merlin," Charlie muttered. "I don't see why Fred just won't say that. I mean, I almost hung him out of Ron's window when I heard, but he didn't say a thing."

"We did, well, we tried. They wouldn't listen. They never listen," Violette said, looking up at him, trying to memorize his face. She wondered how long it would take for her to forget once he left; she couldn't imagine not remembering.

"Well, from what I've heard, you two were found in quite the compromising position," he shrugged, watching her run her eyes over his face.

"We were sleeping. And you probably shouldn't be lecturing anyone on their sex lives," she said, her voice shaking as she did.

"Ha!" he barked, looking a little stunned and forgetting to keep his voice down.

Her mother's snores faltered and without hesitation, Violette reached up run her fingers through his soft, fiery hair and shoved his head down, so that he was hidden behind the overgrown flowers and bushes that grew alongside the fence.

"Violette? Who are you talking to?" her mum's voice called out.

"No one, Mum, I was just thinking about weeding and I must've spoken out loud," she called back, leaning against the fence as her mother slowly walked over to the window, rubbing her eyes and peering around the yard for an intruder.

"Well, don't. That's the first sign of insanity, you know," her mother snapped after being satisfied with the empty yard, but then in a kinder voice added, "But it would be lovely of you to weed the garden and if you could get dinner started soon, I would appreciate that as well."

Violette only nodded, watching her lumber back into the sitting room and out of view. She peered over the fence at Charlie, who was grinning and held her finger to her lips again, waiting for her mother's snores to fill the air once again. Her father's passing had caused her mother to abruptly stop doing anything that did not involving sleeping, eating, or watching her programs, leaving the rest up to Violette.

The snores started back up, louder than before.

Charlie stood back up.

"What do _you_ know about my sex life?" he asked, leaning back onto the fence.

Violette shrugged.

Charlie eyed her warily, before he looked off down toward The Burrow, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Yeah, well, be careful with, Freddie, alright? He's… He and George have this wall up, you know, everything's a joke, but they have feelings just the same as the rest of us."

"I know," she whispered.

And she _did_ know. She had always known. Fred didn't look at her the same as George or Ron or Percy or Bill or Charlie did. Fred didn't treat her the same as he treated everyone else. That's why when he snuck into her room a week ago, she thought he would do it, because he wanted her the same way she always wanted Charlie. She had used him, and it was miserable not being able to see him all summer, but a little part of her was relieved, because she didn't know what would happen when she did see him next. And she wanted everything to still be the same as it was before. She didn't want him to think they were _dating_ or anything.

"Merlin, I forgot how messed up everything was when you're a kid," Charlie muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm not a kid," she said pointedly, watching the corner of his mouth pull up.

"No, you're not, sorry," he nodded, before reaching down and picking a flower on his side of the fence. "Here, a violet for Violette."

Violette smiled as she took the flower. Her father had told her that he had bought a truck bed of violets the day she came home and had even helped her mother plant them.

"I'm going to miss you as much as I miss any one of those other little hellions," he grinned. "Except for Percy, I could do without the pestering. He keeps asking about the duties of a being a Prefect."

Charlie shook his head and looked back toward his house again.

Unlike the time she kissed Fred, Violette was painfully aware of what she was doing when she leaned in, cupped Charlie's stubbled chin, and kissed him straight on the mouth. He had jumped at her touch and his eyes wider than she had ever seen them. He didn't kiss back.

Charlie put his hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her off of him, before standing up and shaking his head again.

"I love you, I always have," she blurted, her hands trembling.

Charlie nodded absentmindedly, before scratching the back of his head, while giving her a pained look.

"Remember what I said about Fred, alright, Vie?" he said, drumming his finger along the fence and watching them.

"You're not going to yell at me?" she asked her feet, she could feel the blood start creeping up to her face.

"For what?" he asked.

"Kissing you. I'm sure you could get into trouble for that, being of age and all…"

"I'm not going to tell you what you feel, alright?" he said, sighing. "But love, the type of love you're talking about, it's not about… it's not… er – bloody Hell, I don't know. It's just about how someone make you feel always, not just for a moment."

"You always make me feel happy," she said, twirling the violet around in her fingers. "And safe."

Charlie shook his head again.

"Yeah, well, maybe in a few years then," he said, going to ruffle her hair again, but stopping himself.

"I'm sorry for kissing you," she said.

"Bloody Hell," he groaned, raking his fingers over his face. "Don't apologize, Violette. Don't apologize for anything that you think is the right thing to do, but don't expect everyone to agree with you. Just be yourself. You're good, _perfect_ even, just the way you are… this was just not how I was expecting this to go."

"How were you expecting this to go?"

"I don't know… A hug and a promise to write? You're like another sister to me, Vie," he said, and she thought that he honestly looked sad as thought hurting her feelings was the last thing he really wanted to do. He wasn't treating her like some silly, annoying kid, who didn't understand love, but as someone he didn't love back in the same way. Violette appreciated it. She understood it.

She opened the gate quietly, stepped through it, and wrapped my arms around his thick waist, listening to the beating of his heart. He hugged her back, kissing the top of her head and her heart skipped a beat when he did.

"I promise I'll write," she said, breathing him in. He had a sort of woodsy smell. She pulled away from him.

"I promise I'll answer," he grinned, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "And remember what I said about Fred."

"I know Fred has feelings, Charlie, everyone has feelings."

Charlie nodded and began walking backwards, waving as he went, until he turned around and ambled toward The Burrow. She watched him leave. He looked back three times.

* * *

She arrived at King's Cross with her mother, early as always. Agatha was chatting away loudly about some woman on one of her programs who found out that her parents are not really her parents and that she is actually the sister of her current boyfriend. It was all very scandalous.

"And then Clarissa turns to Scott and – oh! Here we are," her mother said, clapping her hands. "You first, dear."

Violette pushed her trolley forward, her large tabby, violently orange cat, Bartleby, watching he lazily and started to trot at the barrier, until she found herself on the other side with only a handful of parents and students presents. They usually weren't _this_ early but her mother had to get back to the house before ten, because she must know what ends up happening to Clarissa.

"Have a wonderful year, love," she said, kissing both my cheeks. "Write often!"

And then she was gone.

Violette made her way toward the train and boarded it, easily finding an unoccupied compartment. It was then she began the dubious task of trying to shove her extraordinarily heavy trunk up onto the rack above the seat as Bartleby watched with an encouraging yawn. She grunted as she awkwardly lifted it, getting stuck at the point where her trunk is barely up on the rack, but mostly just waiting to flatten her beneath it. Fred or George usually were around to help her with this sort of thing, but Violette was a little determined to do it on her own. She didn't want to be her mother one day, helpless and useless without her man around, well, in Violette's case, men.

The compartment door opened and her head twisted around to see who it was.

"Oh, er – hello, Violette."

Cedric Diggory, a Hufflepuff in her year, stood in the door way looking a little concerned and a little amused at the position she was in. He was, by most, considered to be the most handsome boy in her year… and this wasn't exactly the position Violette liked to find herself in in front of handsome boys. She had begun sweating some time ago and her arms were starting to shake from the sheer weight of her trunk.

"You know who I am?" the words came out of her mouth before she knew exactly what she was saying, though it did fairly surprise her that Cedric knew her. He was quite popular in school.

"Er – yes," he said, looking at her curiously. "We have classes together. And I'm pretty sure you spilled pumpkin juice on me at last year's Halloween feast."

Violette felt her face flush in embarrassment, her arms shaking from the weight of the trunk.

"Oh. Right."

He took a step into the compartment to help.

"No, no! I got it," she said, giving one last, hard push and the trunk moved an impressive inch.

Cedric put his hands under the trunk and smoothly slid it up onto the rack.

"Oh, thanks, I would've gotten it eventually, but the help is appreciated," she said.

"It's quite alright," he said smiling. "Well, I'll leave you to it then, see you in class. And try not to spill anymore pumpkin juice on me."

"Well, I just can't guarantee that," she said and once the compartment door shut, hitting herself in the head. What was it about Cedric Diggory's face that made everything anyone ever said sound completely _menta_l? Shaking her head, she began flapping her hands under her armpits to try her best to dry them.

After her armpits were as dry as they were going to get, Violette took out her book. She grew up reading Muggle books and actually preferred them to literature written by witches and wizards. Today she was reading _A Separate Peace_.

Violette had a hard time focusing however, because she kept looking out the window for the twins. She finally saw Percy, and then Fred and George shortly after. She pressed her face to the glass, even the sight of them made her lonely summer seem like a distant memory.

She watched them talk a little with their mother and the rest of their family. Ginny seemed to be whining about not being able to go, the platform was now exploding with students and parents alike.

The door to her compartment opened and a small boy with bright green eyes behind round glasses peered in.

"Oh, er – sorry!" he said, before slamming the door closed.

Violette turned back toward the window, but Fred and George had gone.

The compartment door burst open again.

"Vie," Fred said, rushing in and picking her up into a rib crushing hug. They had grown taller even in the few months that she had not seen them.

"Don't let mum see you," George said, glancing out the window. "She's taken to calling you She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for taking her son's virginity and all."

Violette scowled at George, who tousled her hair not unlike the way Charlie had earlier that summer, before hugging her himself.

"Oh, come on, George, Mum's looking for us," Fred said, ignoring George's comment and dragging him out of the compartment. "We'll be back in a second, Vie, just need to talk to Ginny about a toilet seat and reassure my mum that I won't even think about you this school year."

He winked and then disappeared down the corridor.

Violette watched from where she sat in the compartment. She had come with the Weasley's to see Bill, Charlie, and Percy off, even when she wasn't able to go to school. She felt like she was missing out on some sort of tradition, but everyone looked perfectly fine without her. It hurt her to think that Mrs. Weasley couldn't bear to even hear her name.

She opened the window a crack and heard Fred say something about Harry Potter, before the whole lot of them, besides Ginny bounded back onto the train.

The wait was only five minutes, but it seemed like a decade, before the twins came back sliding through the door.

"Told Ron we were with Lee, because I'm sure Percy just cannot wait to write mum and tell her all about how we're with you. It's getting to be a little ridiculous, actually, even dad has been telling her that she's overreacting, and you know that dad hates confrontation, especially when it comes to her," Fred said, flopping down next to her and grinning.

"Yeah, he's sitting with _Harry Potter_, but mum's forbid us from asking if he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like," George muttered, sitting opposite from us. "Oh, and I wanted to let you know that I'm not mad that you chose Fred to take your innocence, even though I'm obviously the better looking one out of the two of us, because I know that if I had come over instead of him, we would've actually _done_ it."

He winked and Fred took off his shoe and threw it at him.

"Can we stop talking about it," she murmured, dragging her hands over her face. "Charlie was already disappointed enough."

"Charlie?" Fred said, sitting up and looking over at her. "When did you talk to Charlie?"

"Shortly before he left," Violette shrugged, closing the window. "He came to see me."

"Why?" Fred asked.

"To say goodbye," Violette said. "I mean, I probably won't see him for years."

"So?" Fred said, raising an eyebrow.

Violette shook her head and looked out the window at Mrs. Weasley, who loathed her now, and Ginny. The train began to move.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing, nothing. Nevermind, what did you guys do this summer? Mine was an absolute bore. Bartleby was my only sort of companionship and I had to clean, cook, and garden for my mum; I'm a little frightened she might starve to death now that I'm gone."

"Charlie came over to your house and said nothing?" Fred said, ignoring the latter of her statement.

"We just talked Fred, bloody Hell, it wasn't that big of a deal," she groaned, slumping down.

"And he was disappointed that he thought that we slept together?"

"I guess," Violette shrugged. "He said we were too young and that he was going to hang you from the window in Ron's room and I told him that we didn't actually sleep together. He looked relieved. And that was that. So, what did you guys do over summer holidays?"

George, sensing either an impending awkward silence or a row, started telling Violette about hiding filiblister fireworks in Percy's pie and stringing Ron up on the rafter's one day when his parents were shopping and all the other antics they got up to over the summer. Another thing Violette always envied about the twins is that they would always have each other, no matter what. Who did she have? _Bartleby_?

Fred remained strangely quiet the rest of the trip, interrupting George to set a story straight a couple times, but mostly he just kept glancing at Violette looking a little hurt.

* * *

"Look," Angelina Johnson yelped, leaping to her feet while her long, rope-like hair whipped Violette in the face. "It's Harry Potter!"

Her walnut skin was stretched tight across her face and her caramel colored eyes danced with excitement as she craned her neck to try and see over those sitting in front of them. Violette rubbed her face, jarred. She had been having the most wonderful daydream about the food that was going to appear on the table any moment now, the food she didn't have to cook.

"Well, move over so I can see," Alicia Spinnet, who was shorter than Angelina by a good five inches, said, trying to look around her. Alicia had piled her reddish-brown hair up in a bun on the top of her head, as usual, giving her some height, without the advantage of seeing.

"You both are complete idiots," Camille Wetburn muttered, though only Violette could hear of the ruckus everyone was making trying to get a look at the rather disappointingly ordinary-looking Potter boy. Violette caught a glimpse of him through the crowd, though, and realized he had been the boy who had come into her compartment earlier that day.

Violette, Camille, Angelina, and Alicia all shared the third year Gryffindor dormitory together, along with two other girls: Penelope Hanson, who mostly hung around with a couple of Hufflepuff girls, and Lyra Black, who hung around with absolutely no one.

"He looks _so_ normal," Angelina huffed in disappointment, sitting down and flicking her braid over her shoulder. "I expected him to be this grand thing, you know, like 'Look at me, I took down the Dark Lord when I was one years old, what have any of you fucking twats done lately?'. You know?"

"No," Camille said, shaking her head that was covered in blonde corkscrew curls and rolling her ocean colored eyes. "We don't."

"I think he's probably just scared, been off with a bunch of Muggles his whole life, hasn't a clue what's going on, has he?" Violette said, shrugging and taking a moment to cheer as Ron was sorted into the Gryffindor house as well.

"Speaking of nothing you just said," Angelina sharply, narrowing eyes at her. "I heard you lost your virginity to Fred _fucking_ Weasley."

Violette stopped clapping, and felt that seemingly common feeling now, of blood rushing to her face in embarrassment.

"Who told you that?" she snapped, peering down the table at Fred, who was laughing at something George was telling Ron.

"Lee told us," Alicia said, while Angelina nodded. "Is it true? Because we don't-"

"No, bloody Hell," Violette said, but the two of them eyed her suspisionly, while Camille stared at her with a reproachful expression. "It's _not_."

"Good. Lee said he heard it from Ben Pooly, who heard it from his father, who works at the ministry, who heard it from a Howler that Mrs. Weasley sent to Mr. Weasley. Apparently the floor heard about not being home to discipline his philandering son properly," Angelina said, all in one breath with a wave of her hand, before she began to fill her plate.

"Oh, that's just brilliant," Violette muttered, burying her face in her hands. "Just _bloody_ brilliant."

After the four had consumed all the food they possibly could, they left the Great Hall almost immediately after Dumbledore bid them goodnight. They didn't want to get caught in the annoying first year crowd or have to be stuck whilst Percy self-importantly told them everything he knew about everything. However, everyone else seemed to have the same idea, because the doorway was considerably clogged as they shoved their way through.

"Password," The Fat Lady demanded when they arrived at The Portrait, laughing at one of the stories Alicia was telling about her older brother's snobby fiancé.

"Caput Draconis," Angelina said, and they all climbed into the common room like one giant eight legged monster. They were still laughing once they stepped into the common room, which is why they didn't notice at first that something strange was falling from the ceiling. It wasn't until Camille made a noise of repulsion and threw something silky that had fallen onto her head onto the floor that they noticed.

It was raining knickers.

They watched the underwear that Camille as just tossed rise up into the air and fall again.

"Oiy! What the bloody Hell is going on?" Angelina hollered, causing a few people to turn their way, amoung them the Weasley twins.

Fred and George bound over to them, artfully dodging the falling underwear. Violette reached out and grabbed a pair, suddenly feeling very sick.

"No idea, was like this when we got up here," Fred said, looking a Violette, who was paler than normal. "Vie, what's wrong?"

"Looks like Violette Connors' knickers will drop for just about anyone, huh, Fred?" said Lyra Black, twirling a pair of underwear around her finger from where she stood at the top of the girl's dormitory stairs, before tossing them to Fred. Lyra winked at Violette, her gray eyes as empty and cold as ever.

Everyone in the common room was looking at Violette and whispering now, some even laughed. Her hands were shaking while holding a pair of her own underwear, which compulsively rose out of her hands. She looked back up at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact with anyone, watching them rise and fall and repeat.

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Black, how _bloody_ hilarious," Fred snapped, and began trying to grab all the underwear he could, but it kept forcing itself out of his hands.

The portrait swung open and Percy walked through with the first years. One of them struggled tremendously just to get through. Percy surveyed the room and his face turned bright red. He waved his wand the underwear all fell to the floor and remained there. Then, Angelina, Camille, Alicia, Fred and George began helping Violette clean it up.

"What is the meaning of this?" Percy demanded, his eye twitching as he looked at Fred and George as he grabbed a pair of underwear off of the floor. "Who's – What _are_ these – Why are you speaking with _her_?"

He pointed angrily at Violette, who was holding an armful of her underwear.

"I don't know, Percy," George said. "Why are _you_ holding her underwear?"

Percy made an indigent noise, before tossing her knickers to Fred, who put them on the pile in her arms. He then began hollering about telling their mother, but Violette wasn't listening.

She looked back toward the staircase, but Lyra was gone.


End file.
